Lush
by mutemockingjay
Summary: Wash had broken her heart, and all she was looking was for a place to escape, if only for a few hours...


**A**/**N: I have been stuck in a terrible writer's block as of late, and an episode of Gossip Girl inspired me to write this. Yeah, I know it's pretty disjointed and vague- that was the type of...aura I wanted to give. **

* * *

"_You don't think I can?" The raise of an eyebrow, a defiant blaze in her eyes. _

"_No, I don't," he replies, honest for one of the few times in his life. _

"_Then watch me, Maine." She spits out his name, and hands him her drink. "Just watch me."_

_

* * *

_

I have always played it safe. The one who always refused a drink or a smoke because it was not the right thing to do, afraid to break the rules. It was all I knew, how to love simply, live in a world where there were no surprises. Because all I had learned from surprises were that they were ugly. That they would rip you apart.

* * *

_The clipped sound of her shoes as she marches up to the makeshift stage- she still isn't used to high heels and he smiles slightly when he sees her wobble in them, before kicking them off and discarding them altogether. _

_

* * *

_

I knew when it was over; I had learned how to be able to detect body language, to be precise with every twitch of a muscle. It was about balance- balance between winning and losing, a game of risk. For if you should fall on the wrong angle, you may never be upright again.

* * *

_Her hips swaying in time to the music, and without hesitation she reaches down and unzips her dress, letting the expanse of silky fabric pool on the floor. _

_

* * *

_

"You fucked her, didn't you?" I grabbed him by the arm, so that he would look me in the eyes one last time. Those baby blue eyes that I had fallen in love with; that even now, when I had seen the two of them together, hoped would tell me that it was all untrue. That it had never happened.

But it did.

"I love her," he said hoarsely.

I released my grip from him as if it was scorching my skin. "And you think South loves you?" I tilted my head back and laughed- manically, so unlike myself that I never would have believed it was me at all.

* * *

_A tiny, shiny slip, barely grazing mid-thigh, edged in the briefest hint of lace. Hair loose and free down her back, turning over her shoulder and blowing a kiss to an appreciative audience._

_

* * *

_

"And I loved you," I said, and in between the shots of pain I feel a sense of smug satisfaction as I left and heard him calling behind me.

"Connecticut, _please_…"

* * *

_Her hands tracing her outer thighs, hips, waist. A strap falling off one creamy shoulder, the echoing sound of her laughter. _

_

* * *

_

I was running, but had no idea where the hell to go. Leaning up against the wall, trying to catch my breath and push away the tears, I saw her. Purple and lime green armor, her helmet dangled loosely in one hand.

She blew me a kiss, and walked away, her laughing echoing in my ears for a long, long time.

* * *

_Thin, barely there stockings, seams travelling up the back of her calves, pulled down with a flick of the fingers. _

_

* * *

_

It was the type of place where you couldn't go unless you were invited- or rather, belonged to the small group of Freelancers who knew where the hell it was. Hidden amongst the desert sands, the allure of everything forbidden; a place to escape.

And that's what I wanted more than anything- to escape, to crawl out of my skin, to stop being Connecticut for at least one night.

* * *

_Pearls wrapped around her neck, small flecks of champagne dust in her hair as she twirled with the music, allowing it to take control of her body. _

_

* * *

_

"Where is it?" Pinned up against a wall, his arms over his head in my iron grip.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his grey eyes looking off into an invisible distance.

"Bullshit, Maine. Don't lie to me."

He licked his lips, "Why should I tell you?"

I pressed myself against him, my words whispered against his neck.

"Why shouldn't you?"

* * *

_She blows a final kiss to her audience, and stumbles as she leaves the makeshift stage; in an instant he is there, breaking her fall. _

_

* * *

_

"What happened with Wash?"

I glared at him, torn between wanting to strangle him or jump him. "I don't see why that is any of your business, Maine," I replied coolly.

"Considering I am the one who knows how to get there…" He dangled the keys to the Mongoose in front of my eyes and I groaned.

"Fucking fine."

* * *

_He tastes the alcohol on her breath when she kisses him, hungering for more. Hands roaming all over his body, her lips on his neck._

_She pulls him away, somewhere beyond the noisy hub of the bar. A small dressing room, plain as can be. Her hands on his chest, pushing him down roughly onto a chair and straddling him. _

"_I want you," she whispers in his ear. _

"…_Are you sure?" Maine, the one who was never uncertain of anything or anyone, speaks to her with a tremble in his voice. _

"_Yes."_

_

* * *

_

He thinks he has never seen her so beautiful, so lush, so carefree. That maybe this is how she is meant to be- without Wash, without rules, without anyone stepping on her heart as though it were made of glass.


End file.
